


Foam on the Waves

by FiveDollarMixtape



Series: The Way We Were [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Amnesia, Cats who live on docks, Fishing, Sibling Rivalry, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:14:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15341586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveDollarMixtape/pseuds/FiveDollarMixtape
Summary: Foam can't imagine living anywhere else.  Drift can't remember anything before he woke in a strange den.





	Foam on the Waves

_ Dedicated to my friend, Kathryn. _

_ I based this character off of you, so I hope you like him. _

_ 10.06.00 - 3.22.18 _

The docks were busy.  Twolegs wandered back and forth, yowling to each other in their strange voices.  A boat was being tied to one of the docks, Twolegs stepping off of it and bringing a nest full of fish with them.  Some of the Twolegs had strange gems or metals in one of their ears, and others were staring out at the golden horizon and speaking to one another.  A cat stepped off the boat after the larger creatures, weaving confidently around their paws and legs. Despite the activity, the sun was only just beginning to rise.

Two kittens, larger than their what their age usually offered, stared at their surroundings with wide, pale yellow eyes.  One kit was a she-kit, her pelt a dark gray color with white flecks mixed into the fur - like snow falling onto a Thunderpath, their mother told them once.  They didn’t know what a Thunderpath was. Her tufted ears were pale gray, along with the tip of her tail. The tom was only slightly larger than his sister, and most of his pelt was a pale gray color.  His chest, belly, and one of his hindpaws were white, and he had thick darker gray stripes that matched his sister’s pelt on his back, crooked tail, and shoulders.

A Twoleg kit spotted them and pointed them out to an older Twoleg, pulling on one of their pelts and pointing with one of their strange paws.  The older Twoleg pulled a fish out of the net it was carrying with some effort before giving it to the younger, who preceded to rush towards them.  The kittens blinked up at the creature curiously, but curiosity was forgotten in favor of hunger once the fish was set down in front of them. The kittens leapt for it, digging their teeth into the meat and enjoying the flavor on their tongues- neither knew exactly what kind of fish it was, but the tom bet that he could show whatever parts of the fish they couldn’t eat to their mother later, who would identify it for them.  

“Shove off, Foam,” the she-kit demanded, nudging her brother out of the way harshly with a shoulder.  “The Twoleg was  _ obviously _ giving the fish to me.”

“It was  _ not _ !” Foam argued, his eyes narrowed.  “He gave it to both of us, Ocean!”

“It was!” Ocean argued around a mouthful of fish.  She swallowed before she opened her jaws to continue.

“It’s for both of you,” a kind, amused voice mewed from above them.  Both kits turned their heads to look up at the she-cat; her pelt was fluffy, her chest, paws, and belly white like snow and the rest of her fur was a pale gray.  Like the tom kit, her tail was crooked. Unlike the tom kit, her eyes were green. The tom often wondered how and why the Twolegs had given her the name ‘Iceberg’ - she didn’t look like ice at all.  “Now share it, like you were meant to,” she purred.

Foam blinked up at her.  “What kind of fish is it, Mama?” he asked curiously.

Iceberg hummed, leaning forwards to inspect the creature.  “It looks like an opaleye, to me.” The she-cat brushed her crooked tail over one of her son’s ears.  “You have to learn these things, Foam. Current can already name most of the fish that the Twolegs catch.”

Ocean scoffed.  “He’s a  _ tom _ ,” she complained.  “Of course he’s fish-brained.”

“Hey,” Iceberg scolded gently.  “Be nice.”

Foam narrowed his eyes, his ears flat against his head in obvious offense.  “ _ You _ can’t name them, either,” he mewed.  Ocean hissed wordlessly at him.

_ “Hey,” _ Iceberg repeated, her voice sharper than last time.  Both kits quieted. “Now, finish up your fish and let’s go wake up Current.  I’m going to teach you three to swim today.”

The tom brightened, dipping his head and wolfing down as much of the fish as he could.  He could feel his sister next to him, but he didn’t care - he was learning to swim today! How could he be mad when he was going to learn to do something that looked so fun?

Foam finished the fish first, bounding past Ocean and surging forwards to go find Current - he assumed that she was still lounging in their nest, in the little den that the Twolegs had made for cats to sleep in.  He bounded inside the room, pausing for a heartbeat to drink in the smells of many different cats.

The area was full of baskets made of hard plastic that were kept comfortable by towels, pillows, and worn-out blankets.  Families tended to sleep together, as it was with Foam’s family. The young tom padded past the baskets until he had found his family’s.  He hefted himself onto his hindpaws, placing his forepaws on the lip of the basket as he looked at his sister.

Current looked like a mix between both himself and Ocean, except for the fact that she had no white in her pelt.  Her long fur was in a simple tabby pattern, some of the stripes being the dark gray that made up most of Ocean’s fur and the pale gray that made up most of Foam’s.  Like Ocean, the she-kit’s plumy tail was straight, curling around her muzzle comfortably. She was only slightly smaller than the tom’s other sister - a difference that most wouldn’t notice unless they paid close attention to the two she-kit’s sizes.

“Current!” Foam meowed.  “Wake up!”

Current opened one of her green eyes halfway before she let out a whine, closing them again.

“Mama’s gonna teach us to swim today!” Foam pressed.

Current let out a louder, longer whine before she opened her eyes.  She got to her paws, arching her back in a long and languid stretch as she let out a yawn that was just as long.  Drowsily, she leapt out of the basket and landed gracefully next to her brother, who dropped back onto all four paws once she was at his side.

“Where’s Mama and Ocean?” Current asked tiredly.

“I’ll show you!” Foam meowed.  He turned and trotted back to the docks, leading the way towards his mother and sister, who were still sitting near the fish him and Ocean had shared.  Iceberg lifted her head, smiling as her kits approached her.

“Do you want some breakfast, Current?” the she-cat asked, pushing the remains of the opaleye towards her daughter with a paw.

Current nodded her head, dipping her head to wolf down the remains of the fish.  Foam looked up at his mother impatiently as his sister chewed. “When are we gonna swim?”

“When Current’s done eating,” Iceberg told him.  Foam’s ears flattened against his head, and he turned his expectant gaze onto his sister, hoping she would eat faster.  She didn’t.

The she-kit sat up when she as finished, lifting a paw to clean her whiskers dutifully.  “Can we go now?” Ocean whined.

Iceberg let out an amused purr.  “Yes, we can go now.” She rose to her paws, padding towards one of the less-active areas of the docks.  Her kits trotted after her, excitement on their faces. The queen stopped at the edge of the dock she had chosen.  

“If you can run,” Iceberg began, “you can swim.”  She turned her head, looking from kit to kit with sharp eyes.  “However, swimming isn’t  _ exactly _ like running.  Your legs should move slower and stronger, and you keep your chin up.”  Gracefully, the she-cat slid into the water, powerful strokes of her legs sending her into controlled circles.  Foam noticed that while she held her head high, water lapped at the fur of her chin. “Ocean, you come in first.”

The kit looked concerned, her pale yellow eyes wide.  “But…”

Iceberg chuckled.  “I’ll be right next to you, I promise.”

Nervously, Ocean got to her paws and jumped into the water, disappearing under the surface.  After a moment, she resurfaced, sputtering. Iceberg smiled at her.

“Good job!” the mother praised.  Ocean offered a shaky smile.

Foam watched as the larger she-cat instructed her daughter on the right way to swim, until the kit was swimming in small, confident circles.  Ocean was exchanged for Current, who had a bit more trouble picking it up than her sister, but still became just as strong a swimmer. While he was waiting for his turn, he turned his head to look at his shoulder, and at the ruffled fur that Ocean had given him when she nudged him.  With a look of disgust on his face, he quickly flattened the fur with a few quick strokes of his tongue.

“Foam,” Iceberg mewed as Current pulled herself back onto the docks, shaking out her pelt and sending drops of water everywhere (much to her siblings’ obvious displeasure), “it’s your turn.”

Happily, Foam jumped into the water, but founding himself sinking.  Ocean and Current had found their way back to the surface so easily, what was he doing wrong? He tried to move his body, but the movements were slow, restricted by the water.  He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the sting of salt in them, thinking back on what Iceberg had told him. 

_ Your legs should move slower and stronger, and you keep your chin up, _ she had instructed.

Foam lifted his head, feeling himself float upwards naturally.  Once his head broke the surface, he took in a deep breath of air, blinking his eyes open.

Ocean snickered.  “Took you awhile.” Current glanced at her sister out of the corner of her eyes, but didn’t argue.

“Shut up,” Foam grumbled.

“He did just fine,” Iceberg meowed from where she was deeper in the water.  “Now, move your legs, Foam.”

The tom complied, moving his legs in slow, strong strokes, like his mother had told him to.  Despite following her orders, he wasn’t moving as fast as his sisters had been.

“You can move your legs faster,” Iceberg told him.  “But not too fast, or else you’ll just tire yourself out.”

Foam nodded his head, complying with her orders.  He started to go faster, easily catching up with his mother’s speed.  He smiled as he glided smoothly through the water. “I’m swimming,” he mewed.  “I’m swimming!”

“He’s swimming!” He turned his head to see that another, younger she-kit had joined his sisters.  She was much smaller than the other two she-kits. Her pelt was white, with black spots dotted across her back, sides, and belly.  On her tail, legs, chest, and face, the black spots turned into markings that looked much more like a tabby’s stripes. Her blue eyes were wide as she looked at him, before turning her gaze to the kits next to her.  “Isn’t Foam a great swimmer?” she asked.

Current shrugged.  “I guess.”

Ocean puffed out her chest in pride.  “Not as good as me!”

“Ignore Amunet,” Iceberg murmured to him.  “Focus on your practice.”

Foam nodded his head, a grin on his face as he continued to swim alongside his mother.  Iceberg paused, treading water as her son continued swimming in his circles. Out of the corner of his eye, Foam could see her gaze turn to the golden horizon, his eyes narrowed.  “Remember, kits,” she meowed, “you can’t swim when it’s going to storm.”

“How will we know when it’s gonna storm?” Current asked, before any of the other kits could.

“There’s a rhyme we use,” Iceberg meowed, starting to swim again and easily catching up to the tom kit, “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.  Red sky at morning, sailor’s warning.”

“What’s a sailor?” Foam and Ocean asked at the same time.  The siblings turned their heads to look at each other, their eyes narrowing into a glare.

“ _ We’re _ sailors,” their mother answered, amused.  “Now keep swimming, Foam.”

* * *

Amunet trotted alongside him as he padded along the docks, towards the baskets that the cats slept in.  

“I hope I’ll be as good a swimmer as you are,” she mewed.  

“I’m sure you will be!” Foam told her, flicking his tail behind her.  “Your fur isn’t as thick as mine, so you might even be better.”

The she-kit blinked up at him, eyes shining.  “You think so?”

“Mm-hmm!” Foam told her, nodding his head.  He waved his tail to every cat that the passed, offering a smile with the action.  The cats returned his smile, waving their tails or dipping their heads to him in return.  “Less stuff weighing you down should make you faster!”

Amunet let out a purr.  “I can’t  _ wait _ to learn how to swim,” she mewed.

“Maybe you should ask your mama about it,” Foam told her.

“I will!” the kit mewed, nodding her head frantically.  “I’ll do it right now! Bye, Foam!” She sped off, bounding towards where she thought her mother might be.

He watched as she weaved around Twolegs before he continued forwards, sniffing around to find a scent trail for his mother or Current - he didn’t feel like spending time with Ocean, and he wasn’t sure if he would  _ ever  _ feel like spending time with his other sister.  Finally, Foam caught onto his sister’s scent. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Current’s.  He padded after it anyways; maybe this time, Ocean would be nice to him.

He padded past Twolegs and other cats, his ears perked to listen to the comforting laps of the ocean waves under the wooden boards and on the poles supporting them.  He paused for a heartbeat, taking a deep breath of the salty ocean air; he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else - not that he could imagine everywhere else in the first place.  Something bumped into him, and he almost fell into the water. The thing let out a scoff.

“Oh, it’s  _ you _ ,” Ocean complained.  Foam turned his head to look at her, sticking out his tongue.  She returned the gesture, before suddenly brightening. “Iceberg’s gonna teach us to fish! Come on, come on, come  _ on _ !”  Before he could respond, she turned and ran forwards.  Foam quickly followed after her, excitement thrumming through him.

Ocean led the way through the docks until they found Iceberg and Current seated next to the water, a warm smile on their mother’s muzzle and a concentrated look on their sister’s face as she watched the water with narrowed eyes, her paw hovering and ready to strike.  Iceberg looked over her shoulder, purring at the sight of her other two kits. “Be quiet and let your sister concentrate,” she meowed, “then I’ll teach you two.” The larger cat turned her head to look back at her daughter. Foam and Ocean glanced at each other, before they fell into sloppy crouches and made their way forwards, being as silent as they could.  As they got closer, Foam realized that it didn’t matter; Current was too focused to pay attention to any sounds they might have made.

The she-cat flashed her paw forwards suddenly, claws flashing in the light.  She flung a fish onto the wooden boards of the dock, dipping her head to kill it with a quick bite between the back of the head and the fin on its back.  She sat back on her haunches proudly, looking up at her mother with a small smile on her face. Iceberg purred loudly, dipping her head to lick Current between the ears.  “Good job,” she praised. “Your first catch!”

“A sculpin,” Current meowed proudly.

“A sculpin,” Iceberg agreed, sounding just as proud.  She licked her between the ears again before turning her head to look at her other kits.  “Okay, you two, come over here.”

Dutifully, the two rose to her paws.  Current scooted to the side to make room, pulling her sculpin along with her.  Ocean and Foam sat down on either side of their mother, crouching beside her. 

“Fishing,” Iceberg began, “is an art of patience.  As long as you can keep still but be fast, and can keep your shadow off of the water, you’ll be fine.  Watch.” The she-cat let a paw hover over the waves, her eyes narrow as she watched. Suddenly, she flashed her paw forwards, flinging a fish out of the water and onto the docks.  Foam watched as it flopped on the wooden boards, trying to get back to the water, but it stopped moving when Iceberg dipped her head and bit down on it.

The she-cat lifted her head, looking between her son and daughter.  “Do you know what kind of fish this is?” she asked.

“A clingfish,” Ocean answered happily, puffing out her chest.

“That’s right,” Iceberg mewed with a nod of her head.  “Now, it’s your turn to try.”

Ocean nodded her head, letting her paw hover above the water.  She watched the water with narrowed eyes. She flashed her paw forwards; Foam could see her paw brush against something reflective in the water, but she didn’t manage to get it out of the waves.

“That’s okay,” their mother assured.  “Try again; the fish won’t be going anywhere.”

Ocean took a deep breath, but did as she was told.  With a focused look on her face, she let her paw hover over the water again.  She was still and silent for a long while before she moved quickly, almost making Foam jump.  A fish was flopping around on the docks, and was quickly killed by his sister’s teeth.

“Good job!” Iceberg praised, giving her a lick between the ears like she had done for Current.

“It’s a prickleback,” Ocean purred.

Foam narrowed his eyes.  “No, it’s not,” he meowed.  “It’s a specklefin.”

“Foam’s right,” Iceberg mewed.  “It’s a specklefin.”

Ocean glared at him.  He ignored it.

“Alright, Foam,” Iceberg purred.  “Now it’s your turn.”

Foam nodded his head, turning to the water and hovering a paw over it, like his littermates had done.  He watched for passing fish, or reflecting scales. When he finally saw what he was looking for, he struck, but it slipped out of his grip.  Determined not to lose his first catch, Foam stuck his other paw in, his claws snagging onto the fish. He let out a cheer as he felt himself start to slide towards the water, and his cheer quickly turned into a yelp.  Teeth dug into his scruff, pulling him back into the boards.

Iceberg was purring with amusement, and Ocean was snickering behind her.  Current was sniffing at his fish, which was weakly flopping around on the dock - after she gave him a glance and he gave her a nod of approval, she delivered a killing bite.  “It wasn’t as clean as you want it to be,” the she-cat meowed, “but it  _ was  _ a catch.  Good job.”  She licked her son between the ears.  “Now, try again, and make it cleaner this time.”

Foam nodded his head, turning back to the water.

“Oh, and Ocean?” their mother mewed, her tone teasing.  “ _ That _ is a prickleback.”

* * *

The boat in front of them was bigger up close.  Iceberg had never allowed them to be near the massive things, saying that they were too young, but today they were going to be on them.

“Go on, Current,” Iceberg told her daughter.  “It looks big, but it’s just one leap.”

Current nodded her head.  She took in a deep breath before she leapt across the gap between the dock and the boat, lashing her tail for balance behind her once she landed.  Ocean followed after her, wiggling her haunches before she jumped and nearly stumbling when she made it to the boat.

Foam looked down at the water between the boat and the dock - sure, he knew how to swim, but the thought of falling still made him nervous.  He took in a deep breath before he crouched, tensing his muscles and leaping across the gap. He landed easily, and a moment later he heard his mother land on the boat behind him, a purr rumbling in her throat.  

“Good job, all of you,” she praised as a Twoleg avoided the family.  Foam looked around in awe, his eyes wide and moving from place to place.  He looked from the front of the boat to the back of it, from one Twoleg to another, from a strange pile of things to a strange crate of things.  He turned his head to look at his mother as she sniffed the air. “We’re leaving soon. Come on, this way.”

Iceberg led the way towards the front of the ship, carefully weaving around Twolegs and their strange objects.  Foam looked around in wonder as he trailed after her and his sisters, nearly bumping into Ocean when they suddenly stopped.  The dark gray and white kit looked over her shoulder, the yellow eyes that they shared narrowed as she hissed at him. Foam narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t respond, instead watching as Iceberg leapt onto the banister.  She flicked her crooked tail, inviting her kits to join her. After a moment of hesitation, Foam leapt up and sat next to her. Current leapt up to sit on his other side.

The water stretched out as far as the eye could see.  The water was blue and full of waves, but he couldn’t see how deep it was or how far off into the distance it went; he could only see waves on the horizon, and he guessed that the water went on and on for a much larger distance than what he could see.  It was endless, and he couldn’t see if there were any fish below the surface of the water from where he was on the boat. Curiously, he looked up at his mother.

“How big is the ocean?” he asked.

“Bigger than you can imagine,” she answered.

He almost jumped a loud, rumbling sound from the back of the boat, looking over his shoulder to find the source of it.  He couldn’t find anything, only watched as Twolegs stood near the banister of the boat, speaking to each other and looking out at the ocean around them.  The boat started moving slowly, pulling away from the familiar docks and bringing them into the unknown. Sea air slapped him in the face as the boat sped up, and he opened his jaws to taste it.  It was salty, and cold against his tongue.

“Can we fish here?” Current asked over the loud sound of the wind.

“No,” Iceberg answered, her voice just as loud.  “That’s the Twolegs’ job, today.”

Foam took in a deep breath of ocean air, feeling it combing through his pelt, making his eyes narrow against the force of it, and flattening his ears against his head.  He decided that he liked sitting on the boat, watching as the ocean passed by him. He wondered what it would feel like to be sitting there alone, even if he did like being accompanied by his family.

It took a long time for the boat to slow down, but eventually it came to a stop.  When he turned his eyes towards where they had come from, he couldn’t see the docks.  Just to be sure, he looked all around him, but he couldn’t see anything in the distance.

He lifted his head to look at the sky at an exclamation from Ocean, blinking up at a large, white-feathered bird that soared above his head.

“I thought birds lived on land,” Current meowed, tilting her head.

“Some do,” Iceberg informed.  “That’s a seabird.”

“Can we eat catch those, like we catch fish?” Foam asked curiously, wondering if a bird would taste different from his usual diet.

His mother shook her head.  “No,” she meowed. “Sailors believe that seabirds are sailors who have died.  It’s bad luck to harm one of them.”

Ocean folded one ear backwards in confusion.  “But we’re cats,” she meowed. “Not birds.”

Iceberg chuckled.  “We’re cats  _ now _ ,” she meowed.  “When we die, we’ll become seabirds.”

“There are birds on land, though,” Foam meowed.  “Can we eat those?”

“Yes, you can,” Iceberg answered with a nod of her head.  “As long as you can catch them, of course,” she added, an amused note in her voice.

“We could!” Ocean defended.

“I’m sure that you could,” the older she-cat purred, curling her crooked tail around her daughter, “with practice, of course.”

Ocean scrunched up her nose.  “I don’t  _ like _ practice,” she complained.  “It’s boring.”

“Practice is how we get better!” Foam mewed cheerily.  Iceberg nodded her head in agreement.

“Even if you don’t practice, though, I’m sure that all of you will be able to catch anything you want to,” the mother purred.

* * *

Amunet was growing up, he realized.

She was still just has cheery and excitable as she always had been, offering praise and support whether it was needed or not, and was still the sweetest cat that Foam had ever known, but she was growing up all the same, much like him and his littermates had been.  He was still larger than her, and even had become the largest of his littermates by far (he was now practically as large Iceberg was, who promised that someday he’d be bigger than her). 

Amunet had grown out of her kit fur, and now had a sleek and silk-soft pelt.  Her eyes had fully changed from their kitten blue to their true shade of the color, one that reminded him of the ocean below their paws, and she possessed long legs and a smile that could make any potential suitor’s heart melt.  She wasn’t a pretty kitten now, but a beautiful she-cat - even gorgeous, as Foam liked to compliment her with often. Despite her newly-acquired looks, the large tom didn’t feel any romantic attraction to her, only seeing her as the closest and most important friend he had.

Amunet smiled at him as the two padded along the docks.  “So,” she meowed. “I heard that you’re gonna go on a boat by yourself soon?”

Foam nodded his head.  “That’s what Mom said,” he mewed.  “Really, I’m not sure if I’m ready for it, though.”

The she-cat tilted her head at him.  “What do you mean?”

The larger of the two sighed.  “I’ve only been on a boat a few times,” he told her.  “And that was with Mom, Ocean, and Current. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do there!”

For a few moments, Amunet was silent, before she knocked her shoulder against his gently.  “Be good luck,” she joked. “That’s what cats are for, right?”

Foam nodded his head - he could remember the lesson when Iceberg taught him and his sisters what cats were here for well, when she sat the barely three-moon-old kits down on a crate and told them that cats were a sign of good fortune on all waters.  He tilted his head up, looking up at the cloudy sky far above their heads. “I’m still worried, though,” he admitted.

“Why?” Amunet asked, tilting her head.  “You don’t have a reason to be, right?”

“Right,” Foam confirmed.  “I just… I’ve got a bad feeling, that’s all.”

“If anyone has no reason to worry  _ ever _ , then it’s you,” the she-cat told him, giving him a small but warm smile.  “You’re  _ Foam _ , after all.”

The tom laughed, the sound devolving into a purr easily.  “Thanks, Amunet,” he meowed, giving her a quick lick on her ear.

“No problem,” Amunet purred, flicking her tail.  

Foam tilted his head.  “Anything you’re worrying about?” he questioned.

Amunet let out a loud laugh.  “You’re too nice for your own good, Foam,” she meowed.  

“A character flaw,” Foam agreed with a grin.

Amunet shook her head.  “I’m fine,” she assured.  After a few moments of comfortable silence, the smaller spoke.  “What do you think about a fishing contest? Whoever catches less has to suck up to Ocean for the day.”

“We don’t have a lot of the day left,” the larger commented, pointing with his muzzle towards the golden clouds that revealed that the sun was setting.

“Tomorrow, then.”

Foam narrowed his eyes playfully.  “You’re on,” he meowed. The two took off running towards their favorite fishing spot, not noticing the pigeon overhead flying farther and farther into the sky above the ocean.

* * *

When Foam jumped onto the boat, he stumbled, landing on his left side.  Ocean laughed at him, Current winced, and Iceberg asked if he was okay. He assured her that he was, and proved it by sticking his tongue out at Ocean before padding deeper onto the boat.

No one seemed to notice or care that the sky above where the sun had just begun to rise was red as blood.

* * *

The tom coughed as the waves pushed him forwards, spitting water out of his jaws.  His claws dug into the wood he was clinging to so hard that his forepaws ached. He felt his hindpaws brush against sand, and he tiredly lifted up his head.  He pushed himself forwards, but collapsed before he reached the dry, black sand in front of him. Half his body lay soaked on the beach, while the other half lay in the waves.  Too hungry, thirsty, and exhausted to pull himself any further, he fell asleep where he was.

He dreamed of the ocean breeze combing through his fur as he stood atop a rock, watching the waves crash against the massive stone.  With every wave, he saw fire. With every sniff of salt, he tasted the tang of smoke on his tongue. As the sun rose above the horizon, turning the fiery waves of his dream ocean a brighter orange, he heard the sound of a voice yelling and screaming.  

For a while, the rock in his dream was moving under him, as if taking him somewhere new, but the scenery around him didn’t change.  He still saw fire in the waves and smelled smoke in the salt. The rock went still.

Slowly, he came to awareness.  He heard two different sets of pawsteps, meaning that there must have been two cats around him.  He smelled wet sand, sea salt, and aster.  _ Where am I? _ He wondered, too wary to open his eyes and too tired to move.

One of the sets of pawsteps approached him before fading away again.  He caught the familiar scent of wet moss, and the tom threw caution to the wind and snapped his eyes open.  He cradled the ball of moss with both paws as he lapped the moisture from it, as if it was his most treasured possession.

“Well, I guess there’s no need for that now,” a voice mused.

The tom lifted his head, looking at the speaker.  Her pelt was tortoiseshell, but instead of the usual black undercoat, it was blue.  Patches of white mixed in seamlessly with the fur. Her eyes were a pale blue, mixing well with her blue-gray coat.  She was fairly muscular, but had no scars on her, making him wonder how she’d got the muscle in the first place. At her paws were leaves with white veins in them; he didn’t know what they were called or what they were used for.

“Hi!” the tom mewed, offering a tiny wave of his tail.  “Who are you?”

“My name is Pebblenose,” the cat introduced, flicking one of her ears.  “You’re in my den. Do you think you can sit up?”

He nodded his head, starting to sit up.  A rush of dizziness hit him, as if he had been dazed by a particularly strong blow.  He closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling to end. When it did finally stop, he continued sitting up, his pace much slower than it had been.

Pebblenose frowned.  “You must be nauseous,” she mewed.  “Drink some more from that moss, I’ll fetch you some herbs.”  She turned, disappearing to another part of the den without waiting for him to respond.

“Uh…” he began, watching the she-cat leave, “okay.”  He dipped his head, continuing to drink from the moss as he had been ordered to do.  His ears perked as he heard her return.

“Here,” Pebblenose mumbled around a leaf-wrap, before she set the bundle in front of him.  When she unwrapped it, the tom blinked at the red berries she had revealed. “Eat these. They’ll help with the nausea.”

His nose twitched as he sniffed at the berries, then lapped up a few of them.  “What are they?” he asked as he chewed.

“Chokeberries.”  The tortoiseshell sat down, curling her tail around her paws.  “Don’t worry, they don’t actually make you choke. That’s just what they’re called.”

The tom nodded his head, lapping up the rest of the berries.  He chewed quickly before swallowing them, doing his best to ignore the taste.  He could feel more than see as Pebblenose looked him over.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.  “Gleampaw told me he found you washed up on the shore?”

He was surprised for a heartbeat before he nodded.  “Oh, right, that happened,” he mewed, mostly to himself, before he looked back at Pebblenose.  “Hungry,” he told her.

She let out a huff of amusement, a small smile spreading across her muzzle.  “Well, we have plenty of prey,” she mewed. “Do you prefer birds or fish?”

He narrowed his eyes in thought, thinking for a few moments too long to be deliberating on which one was his favorite.  “I don’t know,” he finally replied.

Pebblenose hummed.  “I’ll just fetch you the first thing I see, then,” she mewed as she rose to her paws.  “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything while I’m out.” She turned and slipped out of the den.

He watched as the she-cat left, looking down at himself.  His eyes widened in horror - his fur was soggy in some places and dry in others, some parts of it sticking up and others lying flat against his skin; and was that  _ sand _ ? He shuddered, setting to work on cleaning his mess of a pelt, but not having the time to finish before Pebblenose returned.  She set a fish in front of him - specklefin, he recognized. His belly grumbled to remind him just how hungry he was. He sat there for a heartbeat, staring at the fish.  He wanted clean his pelt, but that could wait until after he’d eaten. It wasn’t like cats would just wander inside the den, right? “Thank you, Pebblenose!” he meowed happily, dipping his head to take a bite of the fish.

The tortoiseshell offered a small smile in return.  “You’re welcome,” she mewed. She was silent for a moment before she continued  “I don’t think I got your name.”

The tom swallowed his mouthful of specklefin, looking back up at the she-cat.  Again, his eyes narrowed in thought - too long to be deciding if he could trust a cat with his name.  “I don’t remember it,” he meowed slowly, sounding confused.

Pebblenose frowned again.  “Well, that does complicate things,” she murmured, half under her breath but loud and clear enough for him to hear her.  “Uh... is there anything you’d like to be called?”

The tom hummed as he thought.  He could be called Beach, since that was what he was washed up on, or Wash on that train of thought, but neither of the ideas sat well with him.  Maybe Fire, because - he pushed the thought from his mind before he even had the time to consider it. He thought about the driftwood he’d been clinging to, the driftwood that had probably saved his life; not that he could remember if it had or not.  “Drift,” he finally meowed. “I like Drift.”

“Drift,” Pebblenose echoed, nodding her head.  “That’s that, then. Welcome to WaveClan, Drift.”

 


End file.
